Utterances

by Jo Michaels

  On the one hand, he was right about her not having a job and not contributing to the household; on the other, she wasn’t sure where the line could be drawn for taking money for a cure. If people found out what the book could do, they’d kill for it. No matter what, she had to find a way to keep everything incognito and keep her and Tristan safe. Miracle cures and lots of money changing hands had a way of making national news.

  She chewed her bottom lip, picking at the delicate skin there until it bled.

  “What in the hell is going on here?” Yvette screeched.

  Disoriented, Simone shot up, nearly falling off the couch when Tristan did the same. He grabbed hold and steadied her. It seemed they’d fallen asleep watching the movie, and he’d situated himself behind her somehow.

  When Yvette’s eyes landed on Tristan, her mouth dropped open, and she started stuttering, apologizing, saying she didn’t realize it was him.

  Simone was confuddled as to why she’d be in trouble for having a guy over when there were no adults at home unless it was Tristan. Rather than ask, and open herself up to a conversation she wasn’t interested in having, she shrugged. “Sorry. We were watching a movie and fell asleep.”

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s fine. I didn’t realize who you were with.” Yvette turned to him. “It’s good to see you, Tristan. Will you be staying all night?” Without giving him a chance to answer, she looked at her watch. “Three in the morning. Hmm. I guess so.” She dropped her hands, shrugged, and slapped her thighs. “Well, I’ll see y’all in the morning then.”

  And then she was moving down the hallway toward her room, whistling.

  Tristan ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, that was the weirdest interaction I’ve ever had with a parent. Ever.”

  Simone nodded. Inside her head, a billion ways that could’ve gone wrong played on fast-forward, and it stole her ability to do much else.

  “I’m glad she’s on my side.” He winked, and one corner of his mouth pulled up. “Think this means I can sleep in your room?”

  She gave him a stinky side-eye and curled her lip. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

  Before she was able to rise, he snagged her wrist, pulled her toward him, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. It brought to mind everything she wanted to do to him in her room, but she shoved the heat down and stood, going to the closet for the offered goods.

  Once Tristan was settled, she kissed him on the forehead, told him goodnight, and went to her room. It took her hours to fall asleep as several sexy scenarios played out in her head.

  After all, he was just in the next room.

  When morning came and Simone’s eyes peeled themselves open, she heard muffled voices and pans banging in the kitchen as breakfast was being prepared. Heavenly smells wafted under her door, and her stomach grumbled in response. All she’d eaten the day before was the finger-food at Lilian’s party.

  But as hard as Simone tried to get up, she couldn’t. Her emotions were spent, and her mind was still divided about the child. Rather than force it, she rolled over, hugged her pillow to her chest, pulled her knees up, and got lost in her thoughts.

  It was a while before someone knocked on the door.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Mind if I come in?” It was Tristan.

  Knowing she probably looked like hammered shit, and deciding she didn’t care one way or the other, she gave him permission and then quickly stuffed the pillow back under her head to cover the book.

  He slowly opened the door and stepped over the threshold, his eyes panning around the small space as he walked toward the bed. “Breakfast is ready. Wanna come eat?” When he asked, he perched on the side of the bed and gazed at her, his blue eyes drinking her in.

  A light kiss followed, leaving her wanting more yet again.

  She opened her eyes after and smiled. “I do.”

  But neither of them moved.

  “You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to wake up next to you every day and have your face be the first thing I see.”

  His words stirred her desire again, and she giggled. “You say the sweetest things.”

  All she got in response was a smile, so she shoved at him a little.

  “Move, so I can get up and put some of that food in my belly.” Throwing off the covers, she hopped out of bed and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. “I’ve decided I’m going to do it. Now, we just have to figure out how to get hold of the family and convince them to let me try.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Really, really.”

  He tightened his arms around her waist and swung her in a circle before putting her down and kissing her soundly. When they parted, he grinned, his eyes lit up from inside somehow. “Thank you.”

  “You kids coming?” Yvette hollered down the hall.

  “Be right there!” Simone scrambled to change, imagining Tristan’s eyes all over her skin as she stripped and redressed. It was exhilarating, and she hoped he didn’t notice how red she was turning. If they were going to have sex at some point, she’d have to get comfortable being naked in front of him. He was facing the wall when she turned around, and her fantasies about him checking her out went up in smoke.

  They emerged, hand-in-hand, and walked closely together to the dining room.

  An impressive spread was laid out on the table. Her stomach nearly turned on itself, her eyes wishing they could taste everything on the smorgasbord, and her tongue making fun because it could. Plate filled, she dug in, and ate until she felt like she was going to pop.

  “That was awesome. Thanks, you two. I could go back to bed now.” Laughter trickled out of her, and she winked at Tristan.

  He turned a beautiful shade of red, ducked his head, and snuck glances at her mother, probably trying to see if she noticed the exchanged innuendo.

  Simone put one hand on his leg under the table and gave him a pat, and that seemed to reassure him they hadn’t been caught.

  “What do you kids have planned for today?” Yvette asked.

  “I was thinking of taking Simone to the city and hanging out at the mall or something,” Tristan responded, covering Simone’s hand with his own and squeezing.

  She nodded, taking a sip of coffee so she’d have somewhere other than her mom’s face to look.

  “Okay. Will you both be here for dinner?”

  “If it’s all right with you, we were thinking of going to my parent’s place.” Another squeeze.

  “That’s fine.” Yvette nodded. “You’re welcome to stay over anytime, Tristan.” She smiled at him like a teenager in love, and then her eyes landed on her daughter. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be on a date of my own.”

  “Again?” Simone asked.

  “Yes. Again. He’s very nice, and one day soon, I’d like you to meet him.”

  “How about you bring him to your birthday party?”

  “Young lady, we talked about that. I’m only a year away from fifty. Birthday parties are for the young.”

  “I know we did, but I am throwing you a party, and we are having a cake, so you might as well invite him, right? Young people will be there.” Meeting the man her mother had been out with nearly every night for the previous month or so was something Simone had been dying to do. “Please?”

  Yvette sighed and stared into her cup as she shook her head and closed her eyes. “Lord, give me strength. Fine. I’ll invite him. When are you doing this again?”

  “Eek!” Simone squealed. “Three weeks. Saturday.”

  “You two behave, and I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  Once Yvette was in her room with the door closed, Simone turned to Tristan. “Let’s go find out how to reach that family, and then we can come up with a solid plan for Mom’s party.”

  They spent the better part of the day doing research on the family, getting addresses, phone numbers, and names of possible close relatives. The funding on the website was titled Help the Jones Family Fight Leukemia, but there wer
e so many people with the last name Jones, Simone and Tristan had to do a little recon.

  She dropped him off at his truck, and they split the list of forty names in half, planning to drive by each house and see if they could find a match to the home behind the family in a photo on the funding site. If one or the other hit pay dirt, he or she was to text the address. The couple would meet up again there.

  Nerves jangling in every direction, she typed in the addresses on her GPS one by one, making a note of how far each was from her location. Her finger smacked the start button when she found the closest, and she drove in the direction indicated by the English lady on the app. It took Simone nearly an hour to case five houses, and she was on her way to the sixth when her phone dinged, causing her to jump right out of her skin.

  She pulled over and checked. Sure enough, it was Tristan. He’d sent a photo of him standing on the street in front of a green-and-white house with a little picket fence and a mailbox with birds painted on it. Underneath was an address, and she pressed her finger to it, choosing the icon that would open it in her nav.

  How she’d ever functioned without all that power at her fingertips was beyond her, but she thanked her mother for having the good sense to upgrade Simone to a better device. As she drove, she thought about what she might say to the family. “Hello, folks. I have a magic book that I think will cure your daughter’s leukemia.” “I can cure your kid when no doctor on the planet can. Just give me a chance.”

  Everything she came up with sounded like lunacy. They’d shoot her on the spot. After all, everyone in Tennessee owned a damned gun for that exact reason. If crazies come a knockin’, guns come out a cockin’. By the time she pulled up to the house, she was a nervous wreck.

  Tristan gestured for her to get out of the car, but she only gripped the wheel and shook her head. He got in on the passenger’s side and folded his hands in his lap. They sat there a few minutes.

  “I didn’t really think about what we might say either,” he said. “Everything I can come up with sounds nutso. Then, if they know what the book can do, why wouldn’t they simply steal it and keep the money?”

  She nodded vigorously.

  Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and sat up, turning toward her. “What if we tell them we can cure her, but there are terms and conditions, and we can’t divulge our methods because they’re limited? That if they want it, they can’t tell anyone else. Then it’s kinda like we’re giving them the truth, just not all of it. We can also agree that the money will go to an attorney, and when the child is checked by doctors—and found to be cancer free—we get a cashier’s check?”

  “What names are we going to use?” she asked.

  “Names?”

  “They can’t know who we really are. Something like this… They can’t know. Just in case.”

  “Oh, yeah. I didn’t think about that.” He deflated. “We’ll need disguises and not to come here in our actual cars, too.”

  “Exactly. Anything that could lead anyone back to us puts us in serious danger.”

  “Let’s go to the thrift shop. I have an idea.” One quick kiss on the cheek, and he was jumping out of the car and getting into his truck.

  Simone followed, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

  An hour later, they strode out of the local store sporting scarves, hats, wigs, and large sunglasses.

  Tristan pulled up an app on his phone, punched a couple of buttons, and grinned.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  “We’ll wear this stuff, go talk to the family, and if they agree, we’ll see a lawyer I know that’ll handle it all pro-bono.”

  “And the car?”

  A sleek, black Lincoln pulled up, and the driver rolled down the window. “Tristan?”

  “That’s me!” Tristan opened the back door, waved his arm at the backseat, and winked. “May I introduce you to your ride, my lady?”

  “How is this a thing?” she asked as she got in.

  “It’s all the rage. Rides via an app!”

  No directions were given, but the driver seemed to know exactly where they were going. It only took about fifteen minutes. Simone’s fingers caressed her backpack the whole way, hoping the book would work again. If anyone deserved a miracle, it was surely that poor little girl.

  Tristan nodded at the lady and thanked her for the ride once they arrived. She waved and drove off. He then opened the app back up and punched in a five-dollar tip. “That’s so she comes back when we need a lift to our cars later. I like the ones that don’t ask questions or chat too much.”

  Simone was impressed and told him so.

  “Just doing my job. Let’s get to it.”

  They crossed the street, went up the walk, and knocked on the door.

  A lovely lady with a messy bun and flour on her nose answered, looked the couple up and down, and smiled. “Can I help y’all with somethin’?”

  “Hi, I’m Tony, and this is Hannah. We saw your funding page online, and we’re here because we can help your daughter,” Tristan said.

  Her face fell, and her brows drew in. “Help ’er how?”

  “With a cure.”

  Right before the door shut, he managed to get his foot between it and the jamb. “Ma’am, I know you’ve been through a lot, but we can help end this fight once and for all. Please, just hear us out?”

  “There’s no cure for what she has except the chemo we need the damned money for. Now get off my porch before I call my husband and the police!”

  Simone stepped forward and put her mouth close to the opening, sorry for Tristan’s poor foot that was being hammered by the pressure, but hoping she could say something that might resonate. “It worked on my mother. I watched her as she got closer to death every day. They told us there was nothing else they could do for her, that her days were numbered. Today, she’s up and walking, talking, working, and has a full head of hair. I know what you’re going through, and it’s not easy to see someone you love fight so hard, thinking in your heart, knowing, they don’t have much time left, but there’s nothing you can do. You feel powerless, and it’s awful.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Please, let us help your family.”

  A tear-stained face greeted her when the door was finally pulled open, and the woman nodded, ushering the couple in. “Come on. I’ll hear what you have to say.”

  Limping a little, Tristan followed. He was handed a bag of ice a few minutes later and was told to sit in a chair at the table. A sigh escaped when he applied the cold pack, and he thanked the woman.

  With one eyebrow up, she sat across from him and rested her chin on her intertwined hands. “Well? What’s this miracle cure all about?”

  Simone gulped. “I… Uh… I can’t exactly explain how it works or what it is.”

  “Why y’all wastin’ my time?” Crestfallen, the lady got up and moved about the kitchen, going back to whatever she was doing before being interrupted. It looked like a homemade pecan pie.

  “I’m not wasting your time. I promise. I’d never do that. All this shit is hard enough without someone showing up and promising you things they can’t deliver. I swear, on my life, that I can cure your daughter.” After a deep breath in and out, Simone stood. “But if you’d rather not take what I’m offering, we’ll go. I don’t want to cause you stress.” She turned and moved toward Tristan to help him walk.

  “Wait.”

  That was the word she’d been waiting for, and she spun back to return to her chair.

  “I assume y’all want that money, too, huh?” Mrs. Jones asked.

  Simone had been waiting for the question, and she had a ready answer. “Half.”

  “Just half?” The woman’s hands stopped moving the rolling pin. “Why only half?”

  Tristan pulled his eyebrows together and shook his head, but Simone held up her hand, indicating he should wait a moment. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Because, the way I see it, your daughter deserves a fresh start.
Half of the money raised on that funding page will more than suffice if you don’t need it for doctors—and you won’t.”

  That got the woman’s attention, and she turned, crossing her arms like Tristan’s. “So, we get half, and you get half. Okay, sounds fair. If you can do what you say. Where does my guarantee come in?”

  Simone launched into the deal Tristan had come up with, promised there would be no physical contact whatsoever with the little girl, and watched as Mrs. Jones thought it over, eyes narrowed and moving back and forth between the strangers in her kitchen. Finally, she put her hands on her hips. “Well, it don’t seem like I got a lot to lose. I agree. When do we do this, and how long’s it gonna take?”

  “Our attorney can be here as soon as tomorrow to pick up the money and provide you with a contract,” Tristan said.

  “We need five to seven days after that. It’ll take about three to five hours a day.” Simone added.

  He pulled out his phone and opened the notes. “I only need your full name and your husband’s, please.”

  Mrs. Jones gave him the info and shook hands with each of them in turn. Her eyes were full of tears. “If you’re the miracle I’ve been prayin’ for, praise the Lord; if you hurt my daughter, may God have mercy on you because my husband won’t.”

  When the couple walked out the door, the car was waiting. Tristan ushered Simone in, climbed in after her, shut the door, and dropped his head to the top of the seat, closing his eyes.

  They didn’t speak the whole ride back to the thrift shop parking lot.

  Once the driver left, Tristan turned to Simone, threw his arms around her, and squeezed tightly. “Now I have to go see the attorney. I’ll grab tacos on my way to your house after. Sound good?”

  Her mind was so tangled she just nodded. If they pulled it off, she’d be sixty-thousand-dollars richer.

  It didn’t feel like a win for some reason, and as she watched him drive away, her heart turned to lead.